Hidden
by wwgost
Summary: Following a mission that leaves Rude injured, he and Vincent take a week off.  Warnings for language  mostly Reno's  and ComfortSmut  Vincent/Rude  and violence  angry Vincent .
1. Hidden

Hidden

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><p><em>'Tis said that wrath is the last thing in a man to grow old. –Alcaeus<em>

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><p>A Turk, Rude was used to movement in silence, along the edge of shadow, a kind of slipping at the periphery of sight and sound that gave the impression of invisibility or teleportation. Illusion. Slight of hand. Hiding.<p>

Even so, Vincent still managed to scare the living shit out of him on a regular basis.

He wondered what the man was like in his prime, as he allowed his breathing to return to normal. "Do you hear it?" The gunman whispered as he suddenly appeared out of thin air at his elbow. "Feel it?" A scuttling noise drew his attention, like an insect under paper.

Rude nodded. He and Reno had been sent to "investigate" the existence of a small but violent gang living in a particularly desolate section of the Midgar ruins. Ghouls, reports had nicknamed them, for their apparently supernatural ability to live off years-old remains of a city long dead, seemingly hiding in plain sight and emerging only to attack. Rude had to admit, the idea creeped him out as not much did anymore. And because they disagreed with Rufus' insistence that two people could handle the job just fine, they had brought along Cloud and Vincent for backup.

"We've been followed since we passed the barricade," he replied. The street had been blocked in a way that looked a little too purposeful to have been caused by falling rubble. He looked across to his partner and signaled to meet at the entrance to the alley.

"Not liking this at all, yo. Too many attack points, too many places we could be cut off from an escape." Cloud backed against him, his own .45 ready. Cloud couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, Rude thought, but with that gun it didn't matter. He could destroy the proverbial barn with a near miss. Suddenly the noise was back. He turned his head and the distraction would have proved fatal had he been alone; ghouls rushed at them from the alley and the unblocked side of the street, all at once.

Rude counted twelve that he could see. Vincent killed four with as many shots and then scaled the pile of rubble for a better vantage point, holstering Cerberus and pulling a rifle from his back rig. He couldn't tell if Cloud actually hit anything or just provided covering fire but either way, it seemed to be working as Rude himself shot several more. Reno was in the process of dispatching the stragglers when Cloud called out in warning.

"Rude! Behind you!" It came seconds too late as a ghoul descended on him with a shard of marble, likely from the façade of some formerly fine building. Irony. He deflected the first blow, though the result would be a deep and long cut to his arm, but the bastard got in with a second to his ribs and slashed a third time at his face. His vision went red on that side before a deafening roar stunned him temporarily into blackness.

When he came to his senses seconds later, his only thought was that when he was very angry, Vincent moved as though he was still wearing his cloak. A trick of the light seemed to make the shadows billow out behind him. Or perhaps it was the fury evaporating off his body as he scaled down the pile of rubble. Reno radioed for a medical transport and Cloud kept lookout, even though the ghouls were almost certainly dead or mortally wounded.

The gunman walked swiftly and calmly over to the injured ghoul and sliced his throat with the tip of his claw. He dropped the body in disgust and began checking Rude's injuries as though nothing had happened.

Chaos had _nothing_ on a thoroughly pissed off Vincent.

"That's a nasty cut on your arm. The one on your ribs isn't very deep at all. Reno? Aid kit?"

Reno was looking at Vincent with something akin to hero worship. "Yo, you just decapitated a dude with your _claw_. That may seriously have been the most awesome shit I have ever seen." Cloud opened the kit and looked at Rude's arm. "That looks a little deep to fix up here." He was getting pretty good at playing "guess the stitch number," hanging around Reno as much as he did.

Vincent nodded. "Indeed. The one on your forehead isn't so bad, just bloody, and the ribs are hardly a scratch, but the arm…I'd feel better if that one were done back at headquarters. Let's just bandage it here and get back." Reno produced a pressure bandage from somewhere about his person—one never asked when it came to Reno—and began to wrap up the arm injury while Vincent staunched the flow of blood from everywhere else the ghoul seemed to have cut. While Reno and Cloud's backs were turned, he leaned down and whispered "Don't worry. You're messy, not fatal," and gave a tactful kiss to his forehead on the one spot not soaked with blood.

Rude looked at the mangled body of the ghoul, the gentle hand of his lover resting on his shoulder as they waited for the med-evac. _My little angel of death. What would I do without you?_

* * *

><p>Back at ShinRa, Cloud went with Rude into Medical while Reno followed behind Vincent. Partly out of morbid curiosity, partly out of the need to <em>do<em> something while his partner was being stitched up, and partly because Vincent just seemed to know what he was doing. They were filthy and covered in blood; Vincent in particular was soaked to the knees and elbows as though he had been crawling through it. It was a stark contrast to the tasteful carpeted beige of the building's lobby. The fact did not go unnoticed by the reception staff, who looked like they would have loved to have had someone, perhaps even the Turks, throw them out on their ear for dirtying the upholstery.

Except that they were, inconveniently, Turks. Even Vincent, as it turned out, who at security pulled out a very shiny, current ShinRa ID and marched through with his sniper rifle and Cerberus as though he, well, worked there.

To Reno's unspoken question, he replied, "Someone, I have no clue who, reinstated me when it became apparent I was no longer dead."

As conversation starters went, it was memorable. "I imagine the Iron Maiden at the desk is taking care of that right now. You probably got blood on the carpet. So how do you get out of, you know, actually being a Turk?"

"I just don't go to work. Apparently, there isn't a bureaucratic process for that." He quirked an eyebrow. "Though, the identification card has come in handy on occasion, as today. I suspect I even have an office in here somewhere, or at least a desk. I just have never looked."

"Where are we going, by the way?"

"Rufus. I have a few helpful suggestions for his next mission. Who knows, I may even be fired for my impertinence."

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><p>Reno reflected that weapons check with Vincent Valentine was a whole new experience. Actually, except for the almost-getting-killed thing, the day was turning out to be entertaining as hell. He knew the man only as a Turk legend and as his partner's lover; otherwise, he had only seen him briefly as a friend of Cloud's. But as the day went on he was really starting to like the dude.<p>

Reno handed over his EMR and service pistol at the desk outside the Presidential office suite and Vincent did the same with the sniper rifle. But he then went through a time consuming search of his person for what turned out to be three small pistols and five knives of varying sizes and shapes, at one point admitting that he had forgotten about one of them, and a corkscrew. "Sorry," he muttered to Reno, genuinely embarrassed.

Parting him from Cerberus was a chore but security was firm. He could not take it with him to see the President. He handed it over with an expression that would have rivaled a mother giving her only child to a pool of crocodiles, took a deep breath, and went in. The secretary jumped up in a flustered protest about the President being a meeting with Tseng and wasn't to be disturbed.

Vincent looked at her with an expression that said she had just made his entire fucking day. He walked by her as though she was suddenly invisible and Reno, having nothing better to do, followed him.

To his credit, faced with an enraged and blood covered Vincent Valentine and a nearly-as-bloody Second in Command, Rufus ShinRa at least did not say anything idiotic such as demanding the meaning of the intrusion.

Tseng blanched visibly. Reno sympathized.

"Rufus. My apologies for not having showered first. I thought you should know as quickly as possible that Rude will live, no thanks to the logistics of this mission."

"The intelligence we received on the ghouls…"

"Was criminally inadequate, moronic, and should have been verified before you _ordered_ Tseng to send two Turks into an area of operations that required a good deal more than two Turks. You very nearly lost them both."

Reno hadn't thought of that. It still hadn't sunk in, how closely Rude had come to dying, had Vincent not been atop the rubble pile to shoot his attacker and Cloud not provided covering fire. Or how easily he himself could have died alongside him. He wondered if he was going to throw up, and if Rufus' priceless antique carpet was stain treated.

"Will that be all, Valentine?" Reno had a sudden urge to punch Rufus' arrogant little nose.

"Yes, only because Reno also needs medical attention and I intend to see that he gets it. But please know that Cloud and I were out there today because we care for the welfare of those we love, not out of regard for you or your missions or the policies they support. Now please excuse us." He was gone as instantly as he had appeared, the aftermath of his fury leaving almost the literal sense of ashes in his wake.

"He will never forgive you for that," Tseng came up to them both as they were collecting their weapons. Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose as though fighting off a headache.

"He would not have done so in any case, for being correct when he was not. And my apologies, Tseng, that was not intended toward you. The fault is not yours." Vincent seemed to have shrunk a little, become more human, less frightening and more frightened. His anger from earlier was tucked out of sight again, like the rest of his concealed weapons.

"No, but I should have verified it myself, in any event. The Turks are entrusted to me. I want to see how Rude is doing. Reno, are you hurt?"

"Not sure, boss." Adrenaline had kept him upright to this point but he was beginning to wonder. He ached all over and felt a little sick.

"Get checked out anyway and then take the week off. I'll be damned if I'm letting that boy prince send you anywhere else until he grows a clue." He stormed down the hallway with enough self-condemning angst to pale Vincent and Cloud combined.

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><p>Rude was sent home that evening with an award winning thirty-seven stitches, the most that any of them could remember getting. Elena, the current reigning champion at twenty-nine, was annoyed but brought him soup anyway.<p>

"I have a headache," Vincent complained, back at the condo much later. "Rude has a headache but he has narcotics for his."

"Steal 'em," was Reno's solution. He was on his fourth glass of scotch and didn't seem to be slowing down. "I still can't believe you cut off that fucker's head with your claw."

"Only partially. I am terribly out of practice." He used the same claw to slit the cover on a new wine bottle before removing the cork.

"Not out of practice at that."

"I drink more than I murder these days. Probably not a productive trend. This is also handy at removing beer caps." He demonstrated on Cloud's bottle and Reno looked like he had just seen the incarnation of some small deity. The doorbell rang. Vincent padded over, barefoot, to admit Tseng, who brought by some takeout and of course, more booze. He left after checking on Rude once more and sharing a drink, seeming more relaxed than he had been earlier.

And so was Vincent. In spite of the fact he was nearly out of wine and Reno and Cloud were half passed out on his kitchen counter. He put down his glass and moved them to the guest room where they would cause less damage, at least in theory. He went to bed, exhausted, but careful not to disturb the injured man already there.

"Rude," he whispered into the darkness. He reached out to gently touch his shoulder, remind himself that they were both all right.

"Hmm?" _Shit, didn't mean to wake him…_"Were you really popping beer caps out there with your claw?"

Shit. "We'd had a few drinks."

"So I see. You smell like a winery."

"I had a long day. And no narcotics."

Rude gave a low chuckle. "You were, to quote Reno, fucking awesome out there today. I have you to thank for my life, it seems."

His stomach clenched at the memory. "I'd rather not think about it."

"Whatever you say. Let's get some sleep." Vincent closed his eyes but sleep eluded him until nearly dawn.


	2. Revealed

Revealed

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><p><em>Those things that nature denied to human sight, she revealed to the eyes of the soul-Ovid.<em>

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><p>Rude was on sick leave for at least a week and so a quiet vacation seemed like a nice idea. They knew better than to visit his mother; they would get no rest and it would be a constant lecture on the danger of Rude's job and how he was going to die any day now. Never mind how some of the activities Rude had planned would not exactly go over well with Ma traipsing through the living room without warning. So they rented a small house in Mideel for the week. And it rained.<p>

It did not rain in a, _oh how nice we need it, the flower beds were getting kind of dry_, way. It rained like the end of the world. It came down in sheets, it hammered the windows and the walls like some vengeful god. Vincent looked out the window with a deep glare. While that glare had made grown men soil themselves, the weather apparently had no such respect.

"It's still raining."

"I noticed, Vin. It's supposed to rain all week. Come away from the window." Rude sat on the sofa in gym pants, his injuries healing nicely and barely even sore. They were hardly the distraction provided by the man at the window. His hair still damp from the shower, Vincent wore a silk bathrobe that was tied at the waist but beginning to work itself loose, showing a tempting bit of creamy white flesh.

Yeah. Distraction. Rude wondered if he could work the injury angle for some sympathy sex without appearing too decrepit to receive the benefits. "I really don't think you can threaten the rain with shooting or decapitation. Let's kill off some wine instead." Vincent turned then, the motion pulling the bathrobe a little more open and against the muscles of his chest. He pulled a bottle of Rude's wine out of the refrigerator and snagged his own off the counter on the way over to the sofa. Sitting, the robe barely covered his slim body. Rude tried not to drool, running his hand up one lean muscular leg and untying the robe.

"You don't seem like you're about to drink a bottle of wine, Rude." Vincent's eyes were closed, his face relaxed under Rude's soft massage of his calf, traveling slowly up his thigh.

"No? Maybe I want to taste something else instead." He leaned down and kissed him, teasingly, almost chastely at first. He slipped the sleeves of the robe down Vincent's arms and held him up, facing him, pressing against each other in a playful war of tongues. He could taste the heavy bitterness of the malbec on Vincent's mouth, smell the shampoo in his hair, feel the silk of the robe still pooled around his waist. It was a heady feast of the senses.

Then Vincent raised up off him, slipping out of the robe and stripping off Rude's pants nearly in one motion and coming back down in a hungry bruising kiss, a growl forming in the back of his throat as they met, heated flesh to heated flesh. It occurred to Rude, not for the first time, how badly the gunman had been shaken in the battle with the ghouls and he reached one arm up to wrap around him in comfort. It had the accidental effect of pulling their hips in even closer.

"Shit. Fuck!" Vincent's only response to Rude's outburst was to shut his eyes even tighter and give a little keening moan. Rude smiled. He thought he had cataloged most of Vincent's aroused noises but this was a new one and it made him even harder. His lips parted and his breath came in little gasps against Rude's collarbone which may or may not have been the most erotic thing he had ever felt and seen in his life. He reached his hand down between them, wrapping it around his and Vincent's touching erections and began to pump them together. _Gods, this is so fucking high school, we can't even make it to the bedroom…_But it didn't matter. For his own part, Rude could not have gotten off the sofa had his life depended on it. He was too far gone. Vincent's eyes fluttered open for a brief moment, as if trying to get some kind of grip on reality and giving up before thrusting helplessly into Rude's hand.

The friction was too much; Rude came all over them both and Vincent stiffened as he followed soon after, throwing his head back and exposing a lovely throat to Rude's mouth, and letting out his breath in a long _aaaahhhh_.

That was a noise Rude had heard before, but he didn't mind hearing it again.

"Vin."

"Hmmmm?"

"We need to clean up."

"Okay." Vincent's head came down and tucked into the curve of Rude's neck, the silk of his hair sticking to them both now. He made a satisfied little sigh and seemed for all the world to be falling asleep where he sat.

"Ah. You need to move."

Vincent blinked. Finally he unwound his long limbs and went into the bathroom, bringing back a warm towel so Rude wouldn't have to get up. "I apologize. I completely forgot about your stitches for a moment there." He curled back into his original position on the sofa, long legs swung back over Rude's lap.

"The rain, too, it seems. And the stitches are fine. I'll let you know if they hurt." Rude sipped his wine and went back to admiring a silk robed Vincent. He preferred a naked Vincent but his lover was still self conscious about his scars, and Rude let him be for now. He'd convince the man one way or another he was beautiful but it would take time.

"You have very persuasive hands, Rude. I had no intentions of ravishing you on the sofa."

"That makes one of us. I intend to ravish you on every flat surface in this place until the rain lets up. And possibly some curved ones as well. And the forecast is _quite_ promising."

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><p>As if to make liars of them, the rain let up for a few hours and they decided to go out. Vacation did nice things to Vincent, namely, made him forget that he had to drink proper temperature vintage wine and use the correct fork for his prawn appetizer. Rude admired Vacation Vincent from the small dark bar they had chosen for its proximity to their rental house, just in case the rain started up again.<p>

Vincent studied the huge greasy cheeseburger, trying to figure out a way to eat it one handed so he didn't have to get burger grease out of his gauntlet. Eventually he sliced it in half and bit into it in a way that made Rude's pants feel suddenly tight. Was there anything the man did that didn't look sexy as all hell? Probably not. Rude tried very hard to not look at the way he swallowed the dark brown ale they had chosen—even with a cheeseburger his lover had insisted on a proper food pairing—but failed miserably. He sighed and turned his attention to his own burger.

"This is quite good. Thank you for insisting we go out, even if we do get soaked on the way back."

"I thought it might be a nice idea. Reno found this place when we were here, oh, doing some kind of bullshit for Rufus. Always bring Reno along somewhere new. He's like a bloodhound, finding food and booze."

"Color me surprised." Though the mention of Rufus briefly brought a thin line of anger to Vincent's mouth. Obviously, that wound wasn't healing as quickly as Rude's stitches. But several more glasses of ale and easy conversation moved the mood back to an warm sensuality that seemed to be the norm between the two of them. "It's raining again. Let's order another pitcher of this beer. It's _excellent_."

Vacation Vincent also liked to tie one on, apparently. Rude waved down the bartender for a refill.

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><p>Rude woke sometime in the deep of night. He wasn't sure when and, it being vacation, he wasn't terribly motivated to find out. Vincent was curled into his side. He smiled at the sensation; the gunman seemed almost weightless with his height and slight frame, making his strength even more surprising when he displayed it. Now, in sleep, he looked nearly delicate. Rude knew better and was amused at his own fleeting protective instinct. He thought back to what Reno had told him, of the confrontation on Rufus' office.<p>

_Love_.

They never spoke of it aloud but here, in the silence of night, it roared loud as a gunshot in Rude's mind. Vincent had gone with him to protect him. Because he loved him. And had ripped out the throat of a man who had tried to kill him. While it would never make the text of a greeting card, he figured it would do nicely for their fucked up little world. He leaned over and kissed soft, sleeping lips.

"Hmmm? What time is it?"

"Night." He kissed again. Vincent opened his mouth to the pleasant intrusion. Rude absolutely loved kissing Vincent; the man had the most wonderful mouth. Soft and yielding one moment and aggressively devouring the next, it was the hottest experience he had ever known. And he was drowning in it now as he rolled them over to pull Vincent on top of him. They kissed without urgency, without hurry. They had all week, after all.

Rude thought back to one evening when he was working late, alone, back when they were still supposedly carrying on in secret. Vincent had slipped past building security and into his office undetected. Even Rude himself had not realized he was in the room until he was close enough to smell, and had slid over his body like satin, unzipping his pants to ride him senseless right there in his desk chair. Rude still had no idea how, or even if, the man had disabled the cameras and had no intention of asking.

His mission report had been late that week. It was one of the first red flags to pique Reno's interest.

The memory still made Rude sweat, even in the air conditioning of his office. Especially in the air conditioning of his office. And here, now. "We are insatiable." Vincent muttered when they came up for air.

"We are on vacation." Rude ran his hand up the lean, pale torso and smiled. "I love to touch you."

"I noticed. I won't stop you." Pillow talk wasn't their specialty; they tended to be men of action and not words. But the darkness and the rain made them both relaxed, like a hot bath or a bottle of wine. But Rude was now rubbing Vincent's ass through his sleep pants, wandering down occasionally to his inner thigh and sentence structure was becoming…challenging.

The next kiss was not nearly so relaxed. The next thing Rude knew, Vincent had them both naked and had all but thrown Rude's body on top of him as he shoved the lube into his hand. He grinned. One thing about sex with Vincent; you seldom had to guess what the man wanted. "Gods, give me a minute." He slipped one finger inside him, trying to massage him into relaxing and taking his time but he was grinding up into Rude's erection with such painful and sweet abandon, he could tell that plan was just going straight to hell right then. "Or hell, I guess not." They were obviously going to have a repeat of the sofa episode if Rude didn't get on things and quick, and give Vincent his way.

Rude would file a complaint with management later.

Right.

He half laughed, half groaned as he prepared himself and made some attempt at entering Vincent slowly, or at least not too quickly for comfort. They kissed deeply, touching, stroking, well more like groping until their thrusts built to a steady tempo. Rude raised up so he could look down at his lover; distracted by sex, he forgot to be self conscious about his appearance and Rude could admire him without interruption. The down side of that plan, of course, was that Vincent's beauty only added to his arousal and he reached down almost unwillingly to grasp the man's straining erection.

Vincent bucked his hips in response, the slight change in angle was Rude's undoing. He plunged into him again and again, trying to relieve the growing pressure and sweetness pooling in his groin until he came, hard, Vincent with him, the both of them riding out the waves of pleasure until they lay spent and sated in the damp bedsheets together.

"Damn." Vincent gasped a little as Rude pulled out. "Your…"

"My stitches are fine. They are in one arm, which you didn't touch, and my forehead which I'm keeping away from you at the moment. The rest of me however, is a different story." In minutes, they were both sound asleep.

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><p>They joked on the trip back that at least returning to Edge would give them some rest. Of course it wouldn't; Vincent wasn't exaggerating when he said they were insatiable. In public, it was hard to tell they were even a couple.<p>

In private, well, that was another matter entirely.

The week had been good for them both. Much like the week they had spent the previous year in Costa, they returned relaxed, comfortable in their own space and lacking the air of pinched tension that had sent them fleeing the city earlier. How much of it was time and distance from the attack that had injured Rude and how much was endorphin overload from six days of constant sex, neither wanted to calculate.

The met at Seventh Heaven, a common habit, before going to dinner with Reno and Cloud. Tifa hadn't seen Rude since he was injured and of course had to shove her boobs in his face as a show of concern, Vincent noted with a low growl.

He wasn't exactly familiar with the concept of amiable exes, after all.

"Rude? Do you think someone should check on Reno and Cloud? They have been in the ah…bathroom a while."

"Oh gods. You never know with them. At least the two of you are, you know…"

"Gays of propriety?" Vincent helpfully provided. Rude snorted. "What?"

"Propriety. Sure. You were very proper that last day by the patio doors," he whispered as soon as Tifa was out of hearing range.

"The lights were off. It was your idea, anyway." The memory made Vincent glad that the evening was cool enough for a jacket to hide his reaction.

Rude, in a fit of impatience at his discomfort over his scars, had gotten a little sneaky, in his opinion. The man had turned off the lights and pulled him over to the patio doors, undressing him gently and sensually in the cloudy, overcast light and kissing him into brainless arousal. When he would try to cover up any part of his body Rude would stop him by licking and kissing whatever he had tried to cover, and saying "No. I like that."

By the time Vincent was naked, he was lying prone on the carpet and every inch of his body had been thoroughly kissed, licked, and sucked; he was a quivering mess of need. Rude had made love to him right there on the floor with such tender loving slowness that he had fought himself not to weep when he came.

"You're blushing."

"It's warm in here. The heat's on, I think. Oh look, there they are." Vincent downed the last of his wine and walked out, carefully buttoning his jacket and hoping like all hell he could wait until they got home.


End file.
